


Love above All Else

by Jabbersense



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Family, Rewrite, Short Chapters, father/son Chrom/Morgan fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabbersense/pseuds/Jabbersense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrom may not think himself worthy of Emmeryn’s ideals, but he’s so thankful he married someone who is.<br/>(Set in an AU where Robin is resurrected immediately after killing Grima.)</p><p>*REWRITTEN</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chrom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/21/2014 - Hi, everyone! Thank you reading "Such a Silly Feeling". Truly, every kudos and hit made me smile. "Such a Silly Feeling" was the first fic I've written in years, and I don't care for that draft anymore. So I decided to rewrite it! The plot is essentially the same, but the character POV switches will now be a collection of short chapters. I hope you all enjoy the update!

Chrom closed his eyes and inhaled. Though the evening air still smelled of war —of earth, sweat, blood, and tears— it had never felt so crisp in his lungs. Accepting the reality of having triumphed over Grima was surprisingly difficult. The Shepherds’ crusade should’ve been more like lambs to the slaughter. It felt blasphemously arrogant to think they had actually vanquished Grima and ushered in an era of peace

Knowing he wasn’t the only soldier feeling pensive comforted Chrom though. Instead of recklessly celebrating, everyone was recovering, resting, and reflecting back at camp. Chrom was so proud of his brothers-in-arms for fighting on behalf of his cause. No. That wasn’t quite right. Chrom was so grateful to his friends for fighting with him. At least until they all returned to Ylisstol, their victory deserved to muted and private.

Still, the young lord felt guilty for his incredulousness. Thwarting Grima was his sole objective as the new ruler of Ylisse, exactly as how healing the trust of the people was Emmeryn’s when she was first crowned. He had accomplished his promise, so why didn’t he feel contented with himself?

Sitting in the grass with his knees bent, Chrom leaned heavily against Falchion. (He had stabbed it into the ground as a backrest earlier.) He growled softly in irritation and pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it all to hell. Why did age and responsibility _have_ to make a man question and re-evaluate every action and feeling? He missed being young. Things were simple when he was young. Good outcomes made him happy, and bad outcomes made him sad.

Gods, he used to be such a simpleton.

Chrom smirked beside himself and entertained a silly musing. His self of the not-too-distant-past knew nothing of responsibly. That idiot was just a bored prince wistfully filled with good intentions. Perhaps if this victory happened two or three years ago, there would’ve been a sloppy celebration featuring him as the rowdiest of the bunch. (But perhaps Sully or Gregor could give him a run for his coin.)

He bit tongue from snickering aloud. Gods, calling his old self an idiot! He imagined that Chrom would’ve cried up at the remark. No. Again, that wasn't quite right. It was more likely that his teenage self would've teared up and broken something in anger.

Not until when little Lucina was born did Chrom know anything of responsibility. Neither being captain of the Shepherds nor the new ruler of Ylisse weighted his shoulders like becoming a first time father. Little Lucina was his memoir, a living record that would hold the consequences of his actions from today. Her childhood with him would influence her into adulthood, and every political decision he made would shape not only the kingdom, but also the  _world_  he would leave to her. Having “future” Lucina and Morgan in his life now made this epiphany all the more robust since his alternate self had died trying to protect them from absolute doom. 

He sighed slowly, bittersweetly. 

Those two were such inspiring young adults in their every own right. Chrom prayed that his Lucina and Morgan in this timeline would parallel their counterparts. He had doubts about his own capabilities, but he was sure the four were intended for greatness with Robin here to guide them.

… **four**?

Oh dear Naga. Chrom’s stomach dropped and churned— with dread of or excitement, he didn't know. Morgan hadn’t been born in this timeline yet! There was going to be a "little" Morgan too!

The realization of a  **fourth** child wiped out his petty dissatisfactions about the end of the war like a wave engulfing a boat out at sea during a storm. His mind was absolutely panicking, and his heart was pounding so hard that he would’ve sworn it was rattling his breastplate. He was only useful in physical crises, not cerebral ones!

Flight-or-fight instincts kicking in, Chrom sprang up, uprooted Falchion with a great yank, and tore towards camp to find Robin.


	2. Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/01/2014 - I'm sorry this chapter is so late! I haven't abandoned this fic! Honestly, Robin was a much harder person for me to write than Chrom was. I'm aiming for weekly updates, but if the interim spans a tad longer than that, I sincerely apologize! Also, I did some grooming to the first chapter. I would really appreciate it if you gave it another read!

In fetal position, Robin curled further into her oversized cloak— hoping to hide from her thoughts. Sitting, swathed in warm darkness, no light or cold air could filter through the heavy, purple silk lining. Clutching the Thoron tome she had brought for protection closer to her chest, she tried to focus on the stillness and tried to concentrate on her breathing. She _needed_ to calm herself down.

It was in vain.

Robin snapped, “This is Naga-damn-it-all ludicrous!” She screamed into the evening sky above the forest canopy, chucking the alarmingly yellow book up and down beside her in sheer frustration.

Pushing up herself from the ground, she ripped her hood from her face and broke down, allowing herself wail bitterly into her hands. Her eyes stung, her nose ran, she hiccupped, and she coughed. To hell with logic and rationality! To hell with grace and dignity! Naga have mercy, she wasn’t supposed to be alive! At the very least she could be entitled to her feelings! _This_ is what she needed.

So Robin sobbed for a very long time. She sobbed until it literally hurt her eyes and could hardly open them from the swelling.

Groping around for her Thoron tome and finding it, Robin fell unceremoniously forward on it— _thunking_ her head on the expensive, leather bound text _._

“Some pillow,” she whispered sarcastically to herself.

However, the moss underneath her thick cloak on the forest floor made a surprisingly cushy base. She wiggled slightly to sink herself deeper into the ground. She let out deep sigh, but her feeling of ease was short-lived. Robin grimaced as a string of unhappy thoughts assaulted momentary relief. (She really couldn’t escape from her thoughts, could she?)

 _What’s the life of one person compared to the lives of millions?_  Just twice in her life she had uttered this sentence, and while she absolutely believed each word both times, the intent was never to be merciless.

Even Emmeryn shared the same view. Her sacrifice wasn’t exclusively for her siblings and Ylisse. It was for Plegians too and for the peace of the entire continent. Robin  _saw_  those intentions in that forsaken, sandstorm-ravaged courtyard, but she didn’t  _understand_  them until today. It had been when she locked hateful glares with a version of herself she could’ve easily become that all uncertainty bled away. Her life (and ergo Grima’s life) couldn’t match the significance of the lives from the generations to come.

People were the decisions they made, and witnessing how far her other self had fallen assuredRobin that denying Chrom the final blow —despite having braved the awakening ritual— was unquestionably the right choice. It was more than the right choice. It was also her penance and was the _very least_ she could do in order to make amends for letting Grima consume her in so many different lifetimes.

Conviction was finitely important though. No matter how enlightened her decision, the power of exalted Falchion was squandered and a promise was broken. Because Chrom confessed she was too important to him, Robin promised she wouldn't forgo her life in return. (He tried persuading her by saying others would be born to repeat what they did. Destiny would see it fulfilled.) Yet, to be frighteningly honest with herself, Robin acknowledged she had no intention of keeping that promise from the start.

Maybe that was the reason why she had humiliatingly survived her dying act? She felt worthless alive, and she felt that her continuing existence in this plane was an insult to the bonds that tied her here. Yes, perhaps that was her new penance for deceiving someone as pure-hearted as Chrom. He was her captain, her king, and her husband. He gave her purpose, and she owed him her life. After all, Robin considered the true begging of her life to be when he first found her passed out in that grassy knoll south of Ylisstol. Chrom deserved better from her. The Shepherds deserved better from their comrade. Morgan, Lucina, and little Lucina deserved better from their mother.

Robin’s stomach suddenly dropped and churned with disgust at herself. How could she call herself a mother when she had selfishly placed her own feelings above the needs of her children? She deliberately planned to sacrifice herself without warning, and following her miraculous return, she immediately fled like a coward because felt like she needed space.

Into the deafening rolls of the cicadas and crickets of the forest, the lady tactician confessed defeatedly, “I’m tired, and it’s the kind that sleep can’t fix.”


	3. Morgan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/30/2014 - I wish I could give you all more than another, "I'm sorry." I'm an old fart, and real life (unfortunately) has to come first. But knowing that you guys read this fic means so much to me, and I promise that I will never half-ass my chapters. Thanks again for bearing with me, and on a happy note, this chapter is an extra long one! :)

This was so awkward. He was the very definition of blithe, but holy Tiki’s tits! (Inigo came up with that swear, not him!) This was so gawds-awfully awkward.

Morgan gawked at his sister— catatonic, mouth unhinged. Lucina and Gerome were very publically sharing in a very private kiss atop Minerva. Her hands cupped his face while his arms tightly encircled her waist.

"Look at Minerva. I pity her.”

A tiny voice broke Morgan's stupor. He turned his head to see a shocked Nah by his side. Her dainty, sharp features matched the shade of her cape and boots. Their blank stares met, and the two teenagers suddenly became hyper-aware of their interlaced fingers. What little space left between them swelled with uncomfortable tension.

Morgan drummed his fingers nervously against the back of the girl's palm. He could feel himself sweating. Should he let go of her hand? Would that be rude? Oh crap…

“Tell Minerva sorry and to please not eat me, but everyone else is expecting us. C’mon.” Tossing one last quick glance at his oblivious sister, Morgan tugged Nah away from the scene.

It was a lame exit, but at least he seized at a chance to get them out of there. Ugh, there was bile bubbling in the back of his throat. Morgan considered himself fairly desensitized, fields of mutilated risen didn’t bother him. However, seeing his sister like _that_ was by far the most graphic thing he had witnessed.

Quietly, the tactician-in-training and the dragon girl sauntered hand-in-hand across camp to gather with the rest of their friends. Their arms swung with each step, and each pace dissipated the stiffness in the air little by little. Earlier, Owain had broken character and earnestly suggested gathering around a campfire. It was as if Owain had read everyone’s hearts. He said they needed a night to talk, argue, laugh, and cry. He said they needed a night to finally be friends and not soldiers for once.

In the silence, Nah was the first to speak. “Why do you think Owain usually acts like such a spaz? He’s really pretty profound behind that sword hand of his.”

“Good question! I dunno. I always believed he chose to act a little eccentric in order to keep his spirits light.”

“There’s no way someone that thick can be that aware.”

“Maybe he is! Won’tcha cut him some slack?”

“I absolutely will not! For either him or you!”

Nah rooted herself to the ground dead in her tracks, and Morgan lurched forward a stride. He looked over his shoulder and chuckled when he saw her indigent face. He felt his heart melting. Gods, she was too cute.

“Morgan!” Nah abruptly cried, pointing a finger beyond him. "Sir Frederick and your father!”

The young prince flung around and craned his neck, scanning the fading horizon. He saw his father reach over his uncle's shoulder and point in a direction. Reigns were whipped, and the horse galloped off at breakneck speed.

Questions whirled in Morgan’s head like a hurricane, picking up speed, force, and intensity with each passing second. It looked like they were going to run a wide lap around camp. A hoard of risen? No. They would’ve rallied more Shepherds if it were a fight. This had to be something important if it involved just Uncle Frederick and his father, and it also had to be something grave if it involved only Uncle Frederick and his father too.

Could something or somebody be missing? Yes, it had to be a “somebody” Morgan deduced. It didn’t seem like his father or Uncle Frederick were planning on splitting up, and sticking together made most sense for a missing person emergency. Whoever was missing probably wasn’t kidnapped and ran away willfully. Again, there was no recruiting of reinforcements.

Morgan decided he needed to go back to his sister, and bolted out of Nah’s tender grip.

He flipped around after a few yards and called out while jogging backwards, “I’m sorry! I’ll explain myself later! Go meet everyone and have a good time, and please don’t tell anyone about Father and Uncle Frederick!”

Morgan left Nah in left in cross disbelief, as he turned around for good in a full sprint. He knew she was going to kick his ass for ditching her like this.

* * *

Lucina felt like she always walked a fine line as a female Exalt. She wanted to be a strong and valiant leader like her father, but training to be a soldier like him made Lucina feel like she had to give up her femininity.

Did she really have to though?

Aunt Emmeryn was legendary in the future. She was a saint, and her name assumed Naga-like reverence. Graceful Aunt Emmeryn was the most beloved Exalt by the people, and she had never touched a weapon in her short lifetime.

That’s why Lucina loved being around Gerome. With him, there was no pressure to prove herself. She didn’t have to worry about being tough or benevolent enough. She could say and act what most naturally came to her. With whatever kind of Exalt she would become, she would be contented as long as she had Gerome by her side to support her.

He kissed so tenderly. Lucina wasn’t sure if he was being polite or if he was nervous, but whatever the reason, the tenderness wasn’t fitting. They had just won a war, a battle for the ages! This wasn’t the time for timid hearts!

Seemingly from nowhere, the princess shoved the masked boy on his back, knocking him onto his wyvern's hard saddle. Arms supporting herself, she squared her shoulders over him and slowly grazed her knee along the inside of his thigh. She could feel he was pressing himself flatter and flatter against his wyvern’s saddle. Good. He had his chance. It was her turn now.

A satisfied smirk crept across Lucina's face. She pushed Gerome's mask onto his forehead and crushed her lips against his. She controlled the pace like a true commander. Her head bobbed lightly with the staccato movements of her sucks, licks, and nips. If Gerome was stunned, it only lasted few moments. Lucina’s newfound boldness ignited something in him. Never breaking their kiss, he wrapped his arms around his companion and yanked her on top of him in a vice grip.

But suddenly, an unexpected burst of wind smothered their breaths and ceased their passionate kissing.

* * *

 

“You’re welcome! I decided to pull that Rexcalibur spell at the last second! I was going to knock you and your  _boyfriend_  off Minerva!” Morgan hollered. He tried to sound as enraged as possible, but his voice cracked in embarrassment end rant.

The elder royal shrieked in surprise while the half-Valmese boy rolled on his side, his hands covering his unmasked face in humiliation.

“Morgan! How long have you been there?!”

“More like how long have you two been at it?! You guys have been trying to eat each others' faces for so long that I already walked by once with Nah!”

Both Lucina and Gerome whined and groaned, respectively, in shame.

Morgan plowed on, honing in on the real reason for interrupting his older sister and her boyfriend, “Father is coming on horseback with Uncle Frederick. Someone important is missing, and I think there’s a good chance he’ll ask you to help search.”

Leadership instincts taking over in a markedly different way, Lucina straightened her posture and fired, “Do we know who’s missing? How did they go missing? Why would Father just ask me? What about you? Does that have to do anything with the person that could be missing?”

“No,” Morgan trailed off. His eyes were slightly downcast. ”He just relies on you more than me.”

Lucina was stunned by her little brother’s lack of inhibition.

“Mo. You know that’s not true,” she cooed sympathetically. “It just seems that way because I’m older. It’s my duty to carry certain burdens.”

“Just drop it, Lucy. Anyway, you've completely missed the point as to why I'm really here. I’m really here to keep Father from disowning you and murdering Gerome. It’d be a shame if mother’s perfect, zero-casualty record was ruined.”

It hit him.

The realization hit him so hard that Morgan felt as if the wind was physically knocked out of him. It was his  **mother**  who was missing.

Lucina saw the color drain from her little brother’s face. His eyes glazed over and his body seemed to stiffen and relax at the same time— like he had died standing up. She motioned for Gerome to help her off Minerva, but Morgan snapped to with a vengeance.

“Get out of here! Now!” he boomed, charging towards the enormous wyvern.

“Morgan! Stop! Have you you’ve gone mad?!”

“Gerome, fly her out to the lake! I'll meet you two back here in half an hour!”

Gerome was about to protest, but the look in Morgan’s eyes changed his mind. What Morgan had barked wasn’t a request; it was an order as a prince. Despite his current misgivings, Gerome ultimately kept steady faith in Morgan. Of the thirteen of them, he was the brightest and was Lucina’s kin. He trusted Morgan wouldn’t make choices that would put her in danger.

Gerome plucked his ebony mask from a spine ridge scale it had tangled itself on. Securing it around his face and breathing a sigh of comfort, he snatched Lucina’s wrists and placed them around his waist. He instructed, taciturn, “Lean forward. Hold on tight.”

Minerva flapped her powerful wings once and heaved herself off the ground with such a gust that it made Morgan shield his face with his arms. Another slow and powerful flap for balance, and Minerva pierced the through the air. Morgan blinked, and she was gone. Her black scales had perfectly camouflaged her into the night sky.

**"WHERE ARE THEY GOING?!"**

_Shit! Shit!_

Morgan’s head snapped around, and he backpedaled a few steps. His father had already dismounted his Uncle Frederick’s horse and was stalking towards him. Morgan could practically  _see_  the roar in his father’s throat.

Damn, damn, damn! He didn’t know what to say! Naga hadn’t even granted him a minute’s grace to think of an excuse. Think fast! What would mother do?

“I know she’s missing,” the son defended, slowly raising his hands as a sign surrender. Though his words and actions were unhurried, his head was buzzing with adrenaline, making his vision go blurry.

Caught completely off guard, Chrom’s face fell and all anger instantaneously evaporated. He knew. How did he know?

“I suspected something when I saw you with Uncle Frederick not too long ago. We had started a fire pit with the others,” Morgan began weaving masterfully. “Gerome overheard me talking to Lucy sand offered himself and Minerva to scour the land away from camp.”

“You didn’t join them?”

“I was about to, but I decided at the last second it would be better if I searched for mother alone. I understand how she thinks, and I think I’d be most efficient on my own. Gerome said they would return here in half an hour. You should look with Lucy for mother then."

Chrom winced.

"I know you wanted her disappearance to be a secret, but I trust Gerome," Morgan blurted, misreading his father. "You know he won’t raise unnecessary alarm. Heck, we couldn’t get him to talk to us until  _after_  arriving in this future.”

Morgan smiled sheepishly, hoping his father would find the feeble quip amusing. To his relief, Morgan did catch a quick eye roll and smile from him.

Chrom closed the gap between them and paused in front of his son. Father and daughter. Mother and son. That's what this was about, and Chrom couldn’t blame Morgan. Robin did everything in her power to win Lucina's love— even to the point of laying down her life at her daughter's demand. Chrom? He hadn't done a damn thing except make it blatantly evident that he chose to pay more attention to Lucina throughout the campaign.

Chrom swore on his father’s grave years ago that he would be a better father than his own ever was. He thought he was upholding that vow, at least up until now. Standing before his crestfallen son made him realize that he had much growing to do before he earned the right to call himself the better father. It was a terrifically bitter thing, but he needed to confess his own shortcomings as a parent to Morgan.

Slightly bending his knees, Chrom kissed the top of his son's head and wrapped him in a tight hug. Morgan had the same blue mop of hair as he. It was like hugging the child version of himself, and it was strange yet comforting.

“I'm sorry I've made you feel this way," he whispered into his son's hair. "Would you please look for you mother with me, Morgan? I want _your_ help.”

Morgan had lost his mother three times across two universes. That dreadful sense of loss was the most painful feeling he could ever have. He loved his mother more than anything, and he would do everything for her. However, across those same two universes, this was the first time his father had approached him and had made him feel this special.

It was the happiest he could ever remember.

Morgan couldn't hold himself together anymore. He didn’t know how to handle so much grief and joy at once. There was snot already dribbling from his nose, and Morgan burst into tears as soon as he glanced up into his father's patient blue eyes. With an ungraceful wail, Morgan clutched his father’s torso tighter and buried his face into the crook of his father's arm.

"I hope that's a yes," laughed Chrom.

“Lu-lu-lucy owes me-me so bi-big...”

“Indeed she does. I’ll remind her for you after we find your mother. You’re just like her.” Chrom raised a hand and began to scratch his son head. “I’m very proud of you, Morgan. You’re clever, brave, and loyal. Lucina couldn’t ask for a better brother, and your mother and I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

Still petting his son’s head, Chrom quietly gave his best friend a permissive nod and mouthed, _Go find our idiot kids_. With a nod in return, Sir Frederick rode off. Chastising his daughter could come another day, and though looking for his wife was paramount, she could wait a bit too. Right now, the most important person in his world was Morgan.


	4. Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/08/2015 – GOD, I WENT THROUGH WAY TOO MANY DRAFTS OF THIS CHAPTER. However, yes, this is an actual update! Six months later, and I can only parrot: I’m so sorry for the hiatus, and thank you so much for sticking with me! Only one more chapter to go after this. :)
> 
> P.S. Went back and edited the past chapters again. I pretty much gutted the second one. (I was never really happy with it in the first place.) So if the tone has slightly changed, that’s why!

The soft shifting of armor woke Robin up, but she was more surprised that she had fallen asleep at all over the fact that someone was approaching her way. She found the rustling metal gave whomever’s footsteps a pleasant cadence, and Robin blissfully listened to it until she noticed the noise starting to get a little too close. 

Crap, she needed to find cover. 

Robin lugged her Thoron tome by its front cover and clumsily stumbled behind a nearby tree, crouching as low as she could get. Her vision hadn’t completely returned yet. It actually felt worse. The puffiness around her eyes wasn’t lessening, and her mind was blearily from exhaustion and drowsiness.

The footsteps neared her area, and Robin _tsked_ in exasperation at the condition of her bright yellow book. The pages were wrinkled, folded, and torn from the recent abuse. She had to find a few salvageable leaves, or else the tome would be no good. Robin was a skilled and gifted mage. She had fought perfectly fine with tomes five times more damaged and five times more valuable before, but that was her at her best. Trying to cast a spell with a damaged B-ranked tome in her unsteady state —physically, mentally, and emotionally— was too risky, even for as excellent a mage as Robin.

At last, after finding a satisfactory section of unmarred pages, she looked up to see someone crouched down not fifteen feet away from her.  However, night had already fallen over the dense forest. It was too dark for her to make out anything but a silhouette, and that silhouette was examining (what Robin assumed to be) the indentation of grass where she was previously napping.

 _That patch of grass is still probably warm. That person will know I couldn’t have gone far. I have to strike!_ Robin persuaded herself.

Springing up and pivoting from behind the tree, she outstretched her arm and launched her attack.

* * *

Chrom had been pitted against Thoron spells before, but that never diminished their ferociousness. It was literally staring down the jaws and throat of a thunderbolt. His ears were ringing and his body had gone numb before the attack dissipated, and even before that happened, he was already blinded.

He wasn’t quite sure if he was dead, and apparently, neither did his assailant. About a minute passed until his senses returned to him and brought the world back with them. He could hear the remaining static crackling in the air, he could feel that he was on his back on the ground, and he could see the treetops and the starry sky overhead.

“Stay down, or I’ll fire again!”

Chrom gleefully burst out a sigh of relief. That was Robin’s voice! Nevermind that she had aimed a spell at him, he was just so thankful he had really tracked her down! Finding her was the only thing on his one-tack mind.

It was curious that she had missed though. Robin never missed an attack. She was a better fighter than he. Especially missing at practically point-blank range, she had to have missed on purpose.

“Gods damn! Friendly fire? I thought this war was over,” Chrom joked inappropriately, probably due to the brew of elation, adrenaline, and shock coursing through his body. “It’s me, you reckless little bird!”

He slowly hoisted himself off the ground, punch-drunk and grinning like a fool. He had found the love of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see her for the first time in private today. They had bested the insurmountable odds together, and all of this apocalyptic madness was done. He just wanted to hug her _so_ tight. He wanted to feel her in his arms alive and well.

Chrom choked up when he met eyes with Robin, but it wasn’t out of happiness.

Chrom was choked up with absolute guilt. He was wracked and paralyzed with it. He had been knocked around too from earlier, but he had gone to camp to patch himself up. Robin, on the other hand, she looked so _battered_.

Her white hair wasn’t in its signature twintails and was utterly matted. Small scratches and bruises peppered her limbs, and a huge bruise was starting to form underneath her brown eyes and across the bridge of her nose from where a spell had smashed her in the face during their decisive confrontation with Grima. There was even some dried blood still on her upper lip from the subsequent nosebleed.

No wonder why her attacked had missed. She truly looked her part, like a soldier who had crawled through the worst of war. She looked like hell. It made sense. War _was_ hell. Chrom marveled at his own stupidity. How could he have been so stupid as to leave his wife alone after everything she had been through today?

Robin unintentionally snapped Chrom out of his trance by flinching.

She was pressing her Thoron tome against herself as if it was a shield, and she kept double taking at her spouse anxiously. Chrom clenched his jaw in self-loathing for making her feel so self-conscious. Very gingerly, he started walking towards her. However, the Plegian lady instinctively started backing up as well. (That hurt Chrom more than any one of Robin’s Thoron attacks ever could.)

“Oh Naga. Chrom, I’m so sorry,” her voice was trembling. “I didn’t know it was you! I wouldn’t have thrown a spell if I knew! I mess everything up, don’t I?”

It didn’t take Robin many steps before her back bumped against the tree she was originally hiding behind. She yelped in surprise, and Chrom took this brief chance to gently snatch both her wrists. Robin was now shaking, but Chrom _shh’d_ her reassuringly as he tugged her arms unfolded— causing her tome to fall in-between them. She fidgeted some more in his grip and refused to meet his gaze. Where her face wasn’t bruised, it was blushing crimson red.

“Let go! I don’t want you to see me like this. I-I-I’m a mess and—”

“Please stop struggling,” the all-blue lord pleaded quietly. “You’re not a mess. You’re so beautiful to me.”

Robin flicked her eyes up without turning her head, and she gasped. Chrom knew why. He knew there were tears on his face, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t help but be heartbroken at this. This was his fault.

His knees buckled underneath him, and he slowly sank into the ground— dragging Robin with down him. His cape and her cloak pooled neatly around them. Removing his hands from her wrists, he cradled his protesting wife’s face. He was too ashamed with himself to look at Robin for any longer than a few seconds, so he pulled her into an iron embrace instead. One hand was holding the back of her head while his other arm was wrapped around her torso. Memories of holding her empty cloak suddenly flooded him.

Chrom openly cried into the nook of Robin’s neck, and he held her even tighter. “I’m so sorry. We’re two halves of a greater whole. We’re supposed to be there for each other, supporting each other. I never should’ve left you alone today, even though you asked me to.”

He thought it was unreasonable for Naga to put such kind people through so much suffering, even if they _could_ bear it. Too many times Chrom had found himself useless in situations like these. For once, he wanted to be able to offer something. He prayed silently in his head to Naga: Take Robin’s burden and place it on him, anything to make her life easier at this moment. She had already done so much— and then some.

Her voice sounded so small. Chrom almost doubted Robin had actually spoken, but she had lifted her arms and wrapped them around his shoulders. He held his breath again, suppressing his uneven breathing altogether. He felt that letting out anything at all would have the power to break her.

“I’m vile, Chrom. I lied to you and made a promise I never intended to keep. You shouldn’t be the one tearful and sorry. You should be furious with me. You are the bravest and greatest man. Please, just be angry with me. It’s honestly the only thing that will comfort me,” Robin poured out, her grip on his cape tightening with each word. She sounded so stressed and tired, but she also sounded startlingly calm in comparison.

“Hey, Hush. None of that,” Chrom said, unconvincingly. Unlike his wife, he was still crying. Cradling his wife’s face again without resistance from her, he wiped some of the dried blood off her upper lip. “You made the right choice. I was the one being stubborn and selfish. The best choice, for the kingdom under my responsibility and for your peace of mind, was too hard for me. So like a spoiled brat, I twisted your arm into a choice that you didn’t want to fully commit to. Don’t call me the ‘the bravest and greatest.’ I’m not, and I can’t apologize enough for my actions.”

Robin smiled sadly, “Thank you, and I don’t think you twisted my arm. You were just telling me how you felt, and if anyone’s opinion matters to me, it’s yours. I’m the one who opened my mouth to say yes, and I’m the one who jumped in front of you to end Grima. You needn’t apologize for anything; there’s nothing to forgive.”

“And no calling me the ‘bravest and greatest.’ That’s you.”

“How can you say that? I ran away tonight. I ran awayafter everything I brought upon you, our kids, and our friends.”

“Robin, you’ve never run away from us ever!” Chrom chuckled through the last of his tears and gently knocked his forehead to hers. “Needing to be alone isn’t running away, especially after what you’ve endured. We understand. You’re the hope of the Shepherds. You’re the hope of this world, and you’re of other worlds too! You are proof that we are not pawns of a grand scheme. Just don’t be too proud to rely on the bonds you’ve forged. The Shepherds, our kids, and me— We’re all here for you. We always have been, and we always will be.”

It was Robin’s turn to start crying, but in gratitude. She held her hand over her mouth while Chrom pulled her in close and scratched the small of her back comfortingly.

“The three bravest and greatest people I’ve ever met were all women,” Chrom began. “Each one has irrevocably shaped me and will continue to do so. Yet, I’m so glad I promised to share the rest of my days with the bravest and greatest of them all.”

Chrom then plucked his wife’s hand from her mouth and kissed her such passion and pride that it would keep the spark in his heart for her lit forever.


End file.
